Being a human is weird and awkward – but I’ve learned to embrace and laugh about it | Deirdre Fidge

After a lifetime cursed with awkward social interactions, learning to take myself less seriously has been a wonderful gift

I've gotten to know my postman. Being home during the day means I'm there to answer the door and exchange chit-chat. Sometimes about the weather, sometimes about my dogs who greet him with unfortunate stereotypical anger. Occasionally, I'll pass him in the street and we wave or smile. How nice ... in theory. Somehow, in every instance there is an awkwardness, a palpably tense energy of a high school play where someone is doing their best but keeps flubbing a line, standing off-mark or having their wig fall off.

Postman Pat (not his real name) visited my house once not to deliver mail but to borrow a doggy bag to clean up a large deposit left beside a nearby postbox. We stumbled through a mixture of disgusted remarks and jokes about how large the dog must have been before I slipped over running to the cupboard and shoved three bags into his hand. I really only need one, Miss," he said politely, so I reached out and our hands clumsily smooshed into a plasticky high-five. Another time, he delivered a lightweight package. What is this?" I wondered aloud. It feels like an empty wine bottle!" he replied, and we stood there chuckling at nothing. I then remembered the curse.